Dirty Blonde

What? Cate frowned. “My demeanor is of no legal significance, and I haven’t characterized any facts, Mr. Hartford. I asked a few questions. Trust me, I’m allowed.”

“I never meant to suggest otherwise,” Hartford said, backing down. “In conclusion, defendant moves that the Court enter judgment as a matter of law. Thank you, Your Honor.” He made his way to his seat, and Simone acknowledged him with a nod.

Cate eased back in her chair, surveying the scene. Marz and Temin, on tenterhooks, and Simone and Hartford, on a roll. She knew the law and she knew she had sworn to uphold it. It wouldn’t make sense to delay the inevitable. There was no other way. Or was there?

Cate straightened up. “Gentlemen, I intend to rule from the bench and file a written opinion later, but before I do, I want to say a few words.” She turned to defense table. “Mr. Simone, I’m speaking directly to you now. I cannot imagine a case of such manifest injustice as I see before me today. I think your sense of right and wrong has utterly failed you, if indeed you had any in the first place.”

Simone’s eyes narrowed behind his hip little glasses, and Hartford’s mouth dropped open. Reporters scribbled away, sketch artists flipped the page, and whispering swelled in the gallery. The courtroom deputy looked up from his desk, his eyes shining. Cate didn’t reach for the gavel. She felt empowered enough already.

“I haven’t been on the bench very long, and I hope I never encounter a case such as this again. You may have made a fortune, Mr. Simone, but as far as I’m concerned, you stole every penny of it. You’re no better than a common thief.”

Hartford popped up, mortified. “Objection, Your Honor! That’s slander!”

“Sit down and shut up, Counsel.” Cate didn’t even look at Hartford, but locked eyes with Simone. “The idea for the show was Mr. Marz’s and the storylines were his and his alone. You manipulated and exploited him, and I want my opinion of you and this case to be perfectly clear, regardless of my judicial decision. You may get a Court for public relations, or, worse, television ratings. You’re getting away with murder, and you know it. Simply put, against my judgment, I grant judgment for defendant.” Cate picked up the gavel and slammed it down. Crak!

“No!” Marz shouted suddenly, leaping to his feet. “You bastard, I’ll kill you!” Suddenly he lunged for Simone and grabbed him by the shoulders. Hartford sprang away, and Simone toppled over in his chair, with Marz on top of him, throwing punches.

“Bailiff!” Cate yelled, shocked. Simone’s fancy glasses flew off, and Marz went for his throat. His wife screamed. The courtroom deputy leaped from his chair and rushed to help. The stenographer sprang from the steno machine. Chaos broke out in the gallery. Reporters wrote frantically. Simone’s assistant ran to help him. Russo went after Marz, and marshals ran from the back of the courtroom.

“Judge, let’s go!” said a voice, and Cate turned. It was Emily, on the dais. “You should get out of here.”

“I’m fine,” Cate answered. Her mouth had gone dry. Her heart hammered and her knees felt weak. “I caused it, and I’ll stay until it’s over.”

Back in chambers, Cate sat in her crappy desk chair, staring out the window. The doors were closed and her office quiet, except for the almost constant ringing of the phones on her desk and work table. She didn’t answer. On the other side of the closed door, her secretary, Val Denton, fended off calls from the media. A religious woman, Val would give them the wrath of God. The law clerks would still be buzzing, though at least they had turned the TV off, on her command. The news at noon had carried sketches of the fistfight, and her lecture from the bench had gotten lost in the melee.

Ring! Cate tried not to hear any of it, watching the pewter clouds inch across the skyline behind the Ben Franklin Bridge. It looked like a storm brewing, but it could have been her state of mind. She didn’t know what she had done. Strike that, she didn’t know if she was allowed to do what she had done.

Buzz! The white light flashed on her phone, which was Val’s signal for Cate to pick up, which she did. “What? Are the townspeople at the gate? With torches?”

Val chuckled. “Chief Judge Sherman on the line. Should I put him through?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“No, but don’t let him intimidate you. It’s Meriden you gotta watch out for. I hear he’s runnin’ around whining about what you said in court.”

“Thanks.” Cate’s nickname for Val was Invaluable, because she was.

“Now hold for Sherman.” There was a click on the line, then the soft, quavering voice of Chief Judge Sherman.

“Goodness, dear! I just heard what happened. What a calamity! How are you?”

“Fine, thanks. It wasn’t as bad as it sounded on TV.”

“I don’t keep a TV in chambers. I heard about it from Jonathan, who said it was quite a to-do.”

Meriden. “But I only decked one guy, Chief.”

Sherman laughed softly. “What a case! It’s a trial by fire for you, isn’t it? I thought I’d handed you a plum, but maybe it’s a crab apple. Do forgive me.”

“Not at all, Chief. I think it’s been fascinating, a real lesson in lots of ways. I’m entering judgment today, and the courthouse will go back to normal.”

Sherman clucked. “I rather enjoyed the excitement. I heard Steven Bochco was in the hallway last week! Do you remember Hill Street Blues?”

“Was I born yet?”

“Ha! By the way, I heard you said some rather intemperate things on the bench.”

Cate cringed. Here it comes.

“I’ve gotten a call or two from the others. It’s probably my job as chief to let you know. I would have ruled from the bench, too. But, if you don’t mind some constructive criticism, I wouldn’t have made those comments in open court.”

“In my own defense, what I said was completely in order.”

“Undoubtedly.” Judge Sherman lowered his voice. “But the next time, make all the comments you want, but keep them in chambers. Off the record, like the old man does.”

Cate smiled. “Gotcha. Thanks. And sorry.”

“That’s my girl.” Sherman paused. “You know, all of us are moved by cases before us, certain cases, from time to time. That’s part of the passion for the law that I have, and I see in you. We don’t choose our cases, they choose us. Like our children.”

Cate thought of Warren.

“And I do like your fire, Cate. You’re a new kind of judge, a new model. You energize our stodgy old court. The law needs new life from time to time, or it grows old and stale. Inflexible, brittle. We have to change with the times, and we do. That’s what I love about this court. Our court.” Sherman chuckled. “Well, now, I am boring you, aren’t I? I lean to the rabbinical.”

“Nah, thanks for the advice, Rabbi.” Cate would have stayed on the line with him forever. He was her New Friend.

“Take care now,” Sherman said, hanging up.

Cate hung up, too. She couldn’t help wondering about which judges had called Sherman. Meriden, and who else? Why hadn’t they called her directly? Why run to Daddy? She fingered her pearls like worry beads and eyed the sky, where storm clouds conspired, though she tried not to take it personally. She felt a familiar pressure, building up inside, needing a release, and her thoughts skipped ahead.

It would be the third date, after all.

CHAPTER 7

The door banged open against the bedroom wall, and Cate found herself being hoisted against its hard wood. She wrapped her legs around Graham, her slim skirt hiking up, and he kissed her breathless, pressing into her. He pushed harder against her, opening her thighs, then slipped both hands under her panties in the back, cupping her in two rough palms. The sensation thrilled her, and she kissed him deeper, her heart hammering. Suddenly he